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He
lifted both of his arms in the air and I thought he would fall.
“No!” I yelled, and he put his arms back at his side.
I took a breath to calm down, then said, “Grab the railing
with your left hand.” He did. “Now grab my right hand
with your right hand.” He tried to bring his hand to mine,
but the angle was difficult and we couldn’t reach. I slid
out farther; only my left leg was on the concrete part of the
balcony, and my left hand was holding onto the bottom of the railing.
“Try again,” I said, and he reached out and I grabbed
his hand. He did not grip back. “Squeeze my hand!”
I yelled. And he did.
He crushed my hand completely. I almost fainted. When I did not,
my body decided to vomit instead, and vomited through the bars
of the railing onto the parking lot below. Blackness took over
my peripheral vision and stars were born and instantly died in
front of my eyes. I no longer can tell you when exactly things
happened, because when he destroyed my hand time slowed down,
as if my hand was a car accident and time decelerated as it drove
by to get a better look.
Finally, after I don’t know how long, I recovered enough
to say, “Pull yourself up Ryuu.” I had meant for it
to use its left hand mostly, to lift itself by using the railing,
but I think it only used its right, because it pulled my arm out
of its socket. Again I thought I would faint, and my left hand
weakened from the pain, and I let go of the railing. We slid,
and even though its left hand was on the railing it did not try
to catch itself. I did. I curved my left arm like a hook and wove
my legs into the railing’s bars, and I managed to catch
us. Ryuu was completely in the air now, still crushing my hand,
with only my dislocated arm keeping him from falling.
Strangely, the pain started to fade a little, a wave of comfort
and peace passed through me that made me think I was dying, and
the nausea passed too, and we were not sliding any more. But I
am an old man, and even if I were younger I could not pull up
a heavy robot with a dislocated arm. And already I saw that my
left arm was quivering from strain. We had to move. I said to
Ryuu, “You must climb up my arm.” It did not understand,
so I said, “Take your left hand and put it on my forearm.”
It did. The I said, “Squeeze only hard enough to keep yourself
from falling.” It did not understand this command. So I
said, “Squeeze with 50% power.” This it understood,
and did, and crushed my forearm.
I yelled, “Pull yourself up!” It tried, and I heard
things tearing and popping in my arm. “Do not let go with
your left arm! Grab my muscle with your right arm!” It did,
and it squeezed again with 50% power because I had not told it
to do differently, and that was the end of my arm muscle. But
that was too painful, it was too much too bear. I yelled “Let
go, let go!” I had meant to say something like “Loosen
your grip a little.” But of course it obeyed me exactly,
and let go, with both hands, and fell onto the parking lot below
and broke like a vase, just like in my evil daydream.
7.
Everyone in the hospital kept telling me how lucky I was to be
alive. Doctors, nurses, everyone. I think they kept saying this
to make me feel better about losing my arm. But they were also
very critical that I was foolish enough to try and save Ryuu.
They all agreed I should have let him fall. Even the real Ryuu
said that.
But the real Ryuu felt very guilty. Did I not say I am just a
burden to him, a source of suffering and a strain on his finances?
He blamed himself for choosing a robot that looked like him. He
thought I had come to love the robot too much because of it. Who
has ever heard of a man who is never wrong? But to make him feel
better I said: “You are wrong! You are too ugly to save.
I tried to catch him because if he fell I would have to start
doing the dishes again!” That made him laugh and we both
felt better.
It was a few days later when he came to my hospital bed and said,
“Father, I have an idea, something that I think you will
like, but to be sure I must ask you something and you must answer
me truthfully.”
“I always answer you truthfully,” I said.
He smiled at me, he was too respectful to disagree, but he smiled
at me to let me know he knew I was lying, and I smiled back at
him to let him know I knew he knew I was lying but that I didn’t
care, and he asked me, “Father, how did you feel about the
Clarke? Really.”
I thought for a moment--I would not lie to him, but did I know
the truth?--and said: “It was family.” And it felt
truthful, so I said it again, “Family.”
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